Page 48 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
It seemed unlikely. After all, his father was not a cruel man and Captain Balfour has joined hunts many times in the past. Nicholas did not think highly of the decorated naval captain, but that was not saying much. The marquess could count on a single hand how many men in his father’s circle he found trustworthy.
Rose seems almost afraid of him, as if he has done something to her but I imagine he did provide her with the worst news of her life. She has a right to be skeptical of his presence here.
“How is the governess?” Duke Buford asked as he entered the library. A cloud of pipe smoke assaulted his nostrils.
“She is awake,” Nicholas offered. “But attempting to rest somewhat.”
“Pity she is prone to such histrionics,” Captain Balfour commented, a smug amusement in his voice. “Women are such fragile creatures.”
“Rose Parsons is hardly what I would refer to asfragile,” Nicholas retorted. “How many women do you know in her position who have pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps and overcome such tribulations?”
“I say, Buford, you sound rather smitten with this Betty. She is a bit beneath your standing, is she not?”
Nicholas could feel his father’s eyes burning into him even without looking.
You must not engage with Balfour. He enjoys the rise and he will goad you into a fist fight, none of which what father had in mind for this week. You must do father proud so one day, when you run Buford, you can find a way to wipe the needless smirks off the faces of men like Balfour.
“Nicholas has always been known for his charitable heart,” Duke Buford offered, sensing that a potential for trouble had passed. “He feels more than he should as I always say.”
“Perhaps he should stop his whoremongering ways,” Balfour leered, and Nicholas turned his head so the man could not read the fire in his eyes.
“Father, mother did ask that I tend to the table in light of our new arrivals,” Nicholas fibbed. He worried that if he spent one more minute sharing air with Captain Balfour, there would be bloodshed.
“Again, off to do women’s work,” Balfour howled as Nicholas whirled to leave. He was unsure that he would endure the rest of the week in the same house as the obnoxious naval commander.
I pray father has enough foresight to put up in separate hunting parties,he thought.If he does not, one of us may not survive the game.
Chapter 17
Whether it was the promise Nicholas had made or sheer good fortune, Rose did not set her gaze upon Captain Balfour on Boxing Day. The house became an object of near chaos when the remaining dozen men arrived for their week of hunting, leaving Rose, the Boyles and the children scrambling for tranquility in the attic.
“We will catch our death up here!” Betsey complained but Harry shook his head, rocking his frail body beneath a wool blanket as he rubbed his mittens together.
“I would much rather be here than in the midst of the ruckus down below,” he replied.
“I concur,” John agreed. Rose eyed him apologetically.
“You are free to join in the hunt, John. Both His Grace and Lord Buford insisted they would enjoy your company.”
John did not openly snort but Rose knew he longed to.
“Thank you, no. I have not hunted since I was a boy. I would likely get us all eaten by a bear.”
“A bear!” Harry and Betsey cried in unison. “Are there many bears in these parts?”
“Oh, certainly,” John replied earnestly, his bushy brows lowering in dramatic fashion. “Huge bears with long, gnashing teeth and wings!”
“Wings!” the children chorused. “I never!”
“Oh yes,” the old man confirmed. “Tis why I never venture into Buford Woods. Those men are much braver than I could ever dare to be.”
“Oh, hush now, John!” Bridget snapped. “You are filling the children’s’ heads with tall tales and fears.”
“No, tell us more!” they screeched but John knew he had best not risk upsetting his wife.
“It is much too painful to discuss any further,” he grumbled, and Rose choked back a giggle.
“Miss Rose, may we please return to the house? It is too cold here,” Betsey begged. “I cannot feel my toes any longer.”
